Parker’s nightmare was simple:

He was standing on a familiar street, staring at a familiar blue-haired girl. Dani’s face was twisted in anger and sadness. Tears spilled from her eyes. She didn’t look like normal Dani. She looked the way she had on the night when they first kissed – from the tousled hair to the puffy pink coat. Her hands were fisted at her sides, cheeks bright red.

“Don’t you see how you hurt me? When will my love be enough, Parker!” A sob caught in her throat, and Dani struggled to stifle it. Parker reached out a hand, but she stepped away from it. “What do I have to do to earn your trust? What else do I have to do to prove that I’m worthy of your kindness?”

Parker should say something. He knew he should say something. It wasn’t cold, but Dani shivered, pulling her coat closer.

Her bright green eyes searched his for something, but he didn’t know what. Parker wanted to hold her, to kiss her, but he didn’t move. She had betrayed him. People who betrayed should be cut off like an infected limb. This was a mantra he lived by.

Dani glanced down at her feet. Parker looked too. A layer of snow covered the toe of his sneakers. When he looked back up, it was snowing, and Dani was walking away. “If you can’t forgive me, then you never really cared about me.” She crossed the street toward a dilapidated house with a broken chain link fence. It looked familiar too, very familiar. How did Parker know this place?

Dani stopped on the porch, one hand on the doorknob. “We are all undone by your insecurity.” It didn’t sound like Dani, but the words stung. She disappeared through the door. When the door clapped shut, one of the faded gold house numbers fell to the ground. The street number was 212.

Realization snapped in his mind. Parker had seconds to react. “DANI! NO, GET OUT OF THERE!” That was what he wanted to say. Instead, he said, “DA—“ and the house erupted in flames. The familiar house was his childhood house: the house where he learned to read, the house where he watched his mother and father dance on the living room couch, the house where his mother burned to death.

And now it was the house that had stolen Dani.

Dani’s screams carried up through the chimney, but Parker tried to run to her. The house exploded.

Parker woke up screaming. He clutched the sides of his head so tightly that his vision swam. Jaimie was wide-eyed in bed, staring at his roommate as if the boy had just ripped off his own head and continued to talk. Without a word, Parker stumbled from his bed and ran to the bathroom to vomit.

No matter what had happened, Parker knew one thing: he would not lose Dani.